


Love Birds

by RedHouden (Corveille)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Conversations, Birds, Cafés & Coffee shops, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Insecurity, Jean Kirstein and Eren Yeager Fight, M/M, POV Jean Kirstein, Romantic Comedy, awkward everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-13 11:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corveille/pseuds/RedHouden
Summary: “What the absolutefuck?”Those were the first words Jean muttered the moment he set foot into his small apartment. He’d never —even in his wildest dreams—thought he’d one day come home only to find something likethisinside.After Jean's home get trashed by a bird, he meets a sweet guy name Marco.Jean's not sure how to deal with that.------------------(Originally titled Avian Love.)





	1. Of Birds and Sunflowers.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this is my first time posting on AO3 so bear with me, I'm still geting used to this site. I though I'll post some SNK first because I need motivation to finish this little thing. 
> 
> A bit late I know but its better than never.
> 
> I'm not a native English speaker so if I made a mistake please be kind to point it out and I'll fix it right away.

 “What the absolute _fuck?”_

Those were the first words Jean muttered the moment he set foot into his small apartment. He’d never —even in his wildest dreams—thought he’d one day come home only to find something like _this_ inside. A mess of a living room? Sure, he was a college student after all. A burglar? possible but not very probable, seeing as he owned nothing worth of value as far as he knew. Apartment burning? Too late for that, it’d already happened once and was essentially the reason why he didn’t have a microwave around anymore. But this, this was definitely new.

Let’s rewind a little bit first, shall we?

 All throughout this week, Jean had been endlessly working on all his college projects that were due to the next week —5 in total, mind you— only to go to the café he worked at on his free time to be able to pay the bills. All while surviving on instant noodles and other unhealthy treats, like the average broke student he was.

 One would say, he could have waited and take care of all his pieces sparsely and without the extra stress but he’d rather not do that. The reason? Jean absolutely _hated_ leaving things for the last minute. If he were to choose between now and later, Jean would always try to pick now because, as he’d come to realized over the years, there was always that _something_ that could go wrong, that would one day decide to say “screw you all”.

So all the hours of hard work and restless nights, combined with constant rain and freezing temperatures that had whipped Trost this time of the year, had result in a pretty shitty week for him.

Not everything sucked though. At least his manager had been kind enough to let him off early —since Fridays didn’t usually have that many customers anyway— that had been the only plus of the day. Really, all he’d wished for before unlocking the apartment door was to have a calm and peaceful weekend, to get some well-deserved rest and hopefully get rid of the huge bags under his eyes. Heck, even a blind person could spot them at this point with how huge they were.

What he’d certainly _not_ wished for, was for a gigantic bird-thing to wreck all the plants and decorations on his balcony and, to top it all, be stupid enough to get stuck in the vines wrapped around his fairly new trellis. It almost seemed as if fate was taunting him, making him think he’d finally be able to get some shut-eye only to say “lol _nope_ ” at the last second.

Well, fate could go fuck itself with a stick if this was its definition of funny.

 Now back to the problem.

The bird was twisting and turning wildly, limbs stretching in every direction as it tried to bite the vines in half to set itself free and _Jesus_ the feathers on its head were raising and lowering repeatedly— what the hell? was the only thing Jean’s mind could come up with at that.

For every stem that the animal successfully cut another would get tangled again, be it around its feet or wings.

 The bird seemed to be all white except for the sharp beak and tiny feet, which were a nice dark grey. An albino, maybe? Jean was by no means a zoologist and birds, especially, were not within his area of expertise. Not that he particularly hated them, but with all the shitting and ungodly screeching… yeah let’s just say he’d rather jump off a bridge into the freezing waters than be some resemble of friends with this snowy pest.

Oh actually scratch that. A rather big flap of its wings soon prove him to be wrong on his assumption, their underside had a light yellow tint.

Under different circumstances Jean would’ve seen the beauty of this sight, a good way to practice his drawing skills and attention to detail. It’d been a while since he’d last sketched an actual living being and no, plants did not count. Now, now he could only see it as a demon sent to ruin his life.

Jean’s mind took its sweet time in learning how to properly articulate words again, being more worried with processing how he was not, in fact, hallucinating all of this. For a minute his whole body remained as a statue, until a loud ** _‘scree’_** finally kick-started his brain back into place. One particular emotion gained weight over the others, taking control over his core.

 “What the hell are you DOING IN _THERE_?!”

Guess which one.

Jean rushed to the slide glass door and slammed it open, the force being strong enough to shake the entire glass. Everything outside was utter chaos, from the broken flower pots to the dirt on every red tile of the balcony and the crushed petals. The scene only achieved to pissed him off even more. He stalked towards the bird with firm steps, amber eyes set into a piercing and deathly glare.

Bits of plastic and ceramic gave away under the weight of his shoes. A remainder that all the gifts his mother had sent him and all the effort she —and by extension he— had put into them, was now a complete waste. He’d be lucky to save at least one, never mind fixing them.

…if there even was a way to fix all of this that is.

 The animal grew more anxious and freaked out when it saw Jean creeping closer, head crest went up again to look more threatening. Though admittedly, anyone would be scared shitless if they saw a creature the size of a giant coming up to them.

Jean soon dropped to his knees and made a grab for it.  He wrapped his dominant hand around the feathers of its body, the soft texture created a tickling sensation under his fingertips, while his right hand worked on untying the vines. The fact that he was helping this feathered demon instead of breaking its little neck like he wanted to didn’t seem to improve the thing’s mood. More than once it tried to bite one of his fingers off and kept trashing wildly, screeching like it was dying.

 “This is what you get for wrecking my place, little shit.”

Jean stood up with the bird still in hand and walked over the edge of his balcony, ready to release it and never be seen around here again, hopefully. Since one of its wings was slapping at his wrist, the blonde decided to use his free hand to keep it still, which of course, turned out to be a horrible idea.

“Stop moving you little piece of—FUCK!”

With his hand now within reach, the little fucker was able to crane its neck sideways and nick his thumb, hard. The sudden shock of pain caused Jean to loosen up the firm grip he had on it. The bird wasted no time to wiggle and flap its wings clumsily to get away from him, but not in the direction Jean had hoped.

It didn’t head towards the blue, open sky like any normal bird would oh _no_. It made a complete U-turn, flew over Jean’s head, who ducked just in time, and crashed straight into his living room. His fucking living room… because he had forgotten to close the damn door.

_Mother fucker_ — No, no remember, deep breaths.

Jean willed himself to believe that was okay. It was all okay, not big deal,

right?

It is not like that was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid the whole time or anything,

  _right_?

Jean took one last deep, long breath to calm his nerves. Shaky hands ran through tufts of his shaggy undercut a few times before dropping to his sides once more. He could do this no problem, “just an abomination I needs to get rid of before it trashes my entire home, easy” he muttered to himself.

Putting the injured finger inside his mouth and pressing his tongue against the cut to stop the bleeding, Jean went after the white menace. Yes, that’s the name he was giving it until this nightmare was over.

Very original he knows but fuck if he cared at that point.

Jean found the white menace spinning in circles on the coffee table. The small book pile he had left there for late-night reading was now spread on the floor. His unfinished cup of coffee from this morning was lying next to them, its content spilled all over the carpet.

 Okay, screw being on the animal lover’s good list. He was going to kill this thing.

Luckily for the bird, something caught Jean’s attention and stopped that train of thought. As it turned out the thing was no longer shrieking nonsense like earlier, it was repeating a name over and over again between whistles.

“Marco” whistle. “Marco, Marco” more whistles.

 What was that supposed to be anyway, its name? Too bad buddy you’ve already been re-named by yours truly, suck it up.

Whatever, at least that helped narrowing down the list of birds-to-be by a whole lot. After all, only a very few were capable of mimicking human speech. Last he’d checked ravens were black so he was pretty sure he was dealing with a parrot here.

Good to know, and now.

“Get. Out.” Jean growled while pointing at the balcony. The parrot simply twisted its neck to stare at him with sudden innocence, as if mocking him.

“Get the hell out of my home or I swear I’ll personally throw you out a window.”

But again the white menace showed him its back and spoke the name once more, ignoring Jean’s presence completely.

Oh so that’s how it was going to be. Jean joined both hands together and cracked his knuckles one by one, a smirk appeared on his face.

“You better be prepared feathers, it’s on!”

He was going to get rid of this bird, even if it cost him all his fingers in the process.

* * *

 

“Marco.”

“No.”

“Marco.”

“God damn, stop.”

“ _Marco_!”

“...Polo.”

Jean groaned as he heard that fucking name for the million time today. He was seriously considering going to the store across the street to buy some earplugs, headphones.

Anything really.

He’d spent the next hour trying to catch the damn bird but it had found the perfect hiding spot on top of the highest book shelf he owned, right behind a pile of fantasy books, fitting. Jean could use a chair and move all the books of course but, then again, he wasn’t about to had his face be inches away from that mighty beak. He’d much rather keep his eyes attached to their socket where they _should_ be, thank you very much.

_“I want dad but ya can’t have it”_

Don’t get him wrong. Every time he saw the bird cautiously go back to ground level, he’d try to trap it with a box or a rope or something but it’d always find a way to return to his safe haven and stay there. Wasting his time before coming back down for round who’s – counting–anymore.

“ _I thought I let them here, a pie is nice.”_

He’d pretty much given up at this point and had resorted to lie comfortably on the couch with his trusty laptop on his thighs. A new cup of sweet caffeine coupled with a bowl of dried fruits and nuts were on top of the, now clean, small table. He’d wait for the parrot to fall asleep and then take it out. Until then, the alternative plan was to ignore it and no, he wasn’t going to ask a neighbor for help. Can you imagine the humiliation he would’ve to endure? Hi I´m your poor excuse of a neighbor, a huge ass bird got into my apartment and I can’t get it out, please help.

No way, he was too proud to do that.

_“That’s a monkey boy! I’m a good boy.”_

He’d clean all the mess outside too. Opened up all the windows and made a show of _look! Sky, fresh air. That’s what your fuckers like isn’t it?_ but alas, it shielded no results. Only the lilacs, daffodils, lobelias and his cacti —because of course the cacti would survive, of course— had made it. The rest had to be cut down or be re-planted and wait for a miracle to occur.

“ _I can’t drink soda dear, I want my beer!”_

Jean had never been a fan of gardening, his mother on the other side was the ultimate master at it. Their old house was full of all sort of houseplants, all displaying their beauty and power to any guest who dared enter the Kirschtein home.

Your nostrils and eyes both would be filled with breathtaking colors and scents the moment you set foot into the house. That’s why, when he’d moved to this apartment complex, his mom promised to send him different types of florae every now and then, so he’d feel ‘more at home.’

Her words not his.

_“The soap is evil.”_

Now he was back to having a poor excuse of a terrace and his mom would kill him for sure.

_“I gotcha, I gotcha!”_ And God, it was still.

Fucking.

Talking.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jean shouted over his shoulder before looking back to the screen.

He’d done some research. Apparently he was dealing with an umbrella cockatoo or better known as a white cockatoo, _genius_ naming indeed. Based on the website info: they’re really affectionate and energetic pets. Downside is, they often tended to make tantrums over nothing just to get attention, hated confined spaces and got overly attached to anything that could catch their interest.

Basically, don’t buy this one unless you have the patient and the time to look after an animal who has the mindset of a fucking toddler.

How was he going to deal with this then? He lacked both of those things and this cockatoo obviously belonged to someone, or at least, it looked well-fed and quite healthy. The owner was probably looking desperately for their little pet right now and since this bird was so against the idea of getting out of his apartment, he could at least try reunite the two. After all he wasn’t a heartless bastard, just a grade-A asshole. Maybe by making some missing posters? See if someone made a call.

 Jean searched blindingly for the tiny bowl. All the thinking was making him hungry well, that and the fact he hadn’t really eaten anything since his lunch break, all those distant three hours ago. As Jean was about to eat some of the dried fruit, a flash of white settled on the armrest of the couch next to his elbow, startling him out of his thoughts. Jean put his hands reflexively in front of his face, afraid the animal would try to prick at his eyes or something equally horrible but the white menace just stood there, unmoving.  Its gaze set fixedly on the blonde’s hand.

It clicked almost right away.

But of course, every animal’s most exploitable weakness. Experimentally, he let his hand get near and the bird started munching happily. Now this he could work with.

 Finally, something was going right in his sad excuse of a life.

“Don’t you dare bite,” whatever God was up there must’ve been listening, because it never did.  When it finished all the food on his hand Jean went to drop the bowl’s content on the table, mostly to stop it from fleeing again. It seemed almost funny, the way it’d wiggle its feet around and pick up the snacks it liked the most, but Jean knew better than to be fooled by this creature’s silliness. As long as the white menace didn’t move from this spot he was cool with it.

“Am I a happy baby.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Pretty bird, pretty bird…”

“No, you’re an ugly fucker.”

“Be quiet, fucker.”

“Son of a—”

A knock on the door distracted Jean from their little argument and made him realized what he was doing. He was having a conversation with a bird of all things. Not only that but a bird that was determinate to be his mortal enemy for the day.

 God, he needed to get out more.

Another knock, louder this time.

“Ugh, coming.” He swore if it was the landlord ready to complain about the noise, he was going to flip his shit.

“ _What’s your problem?”_

“You, you’re my problem.”

Oh yes Jean keep talking to the bird, people won’t think you’re crazy or anything _,_ the young man all but screamed inside his head.

Jean slammed the front door open, a glare already set on his face and teeth bare. He’d give whoever was outside a piece of his mind.

Except, what greeted him on the other side of the door was not the landlord —or any neighbor he knew for that matter— but a total stranger, standing tall in front of him.

The first thing Jean focused on were the freckles, a full galaxy of them painted on top of healthy tanned skin. Those little marks seemed to spread to every corner like stars as far as the blonde could see. He looked young too, around his early twenties maybe.

Short dark brown hair, evenly parted in the middle and shaped in an undercut much like his own, only difference being the little bangs lying symmetrically on either side of a rather big forehead. A round nose, strong jawline and the brownest eyes he’d ever seen watching him, uncertain.

Jean couldn’t do anything but stand with his mouth agape like the idiot he was and think wow, this guy is _hot_. His sudden muteness was the only thing keeping him from saying that thought out loud. After all, he wasn’t afraid to admit when a boy was attractive and this one sure as hell checked the list.

It almost made him self-conscious of his very own physique. Not to say he didn’t have any muscle mass at all. He hit the gym quite regularly and often took his time doing his routine. Still, he felt way too pale and scrawny compare to this guy.

“Um—hi?” The stranger said in a confuse tone and Jean realized that, in his dumbfounded state, he’d been staring at him for far too long without speaking to be considered normal.

“Yeah, hi.” My Lord was this awkward and it was nobody’s fault but his, great.

“Sorry to bother you…” oh he wasn’t bothering Jean at all. “but see, I lost my pet yesterday and I’d been looking all over for him. Some people told me they saw a big bird flying around the building this morning and when I asked here, the landlord said people were irritated because of the loud noises coming from this room. So I thought, might as well check?”

Well would you look at that Jean didn’t have to wait long, the owner came right to him. What were the chances of that actually happening? And for said owner to be a smoking beauty too?

“Looks like it’s your lucky day then, you lost a cockatoo right?” The young man nodded eagerly. A warm smile appeared on his face, allowing rows full of pearly white teeth to be seen. Really, what type of toothpaste did _he_ use? Here Jean was, trying to even find the time to polish his own ugly gums and there stood the embodiment of a dentist’s wet dream.

“Oh thanks God. I was so worried something would’ve happen to him with this crazy weather we ‘d been having lately. Thank you so much for taking him in eh—”

“Jean, I’m Jean Kirschtein and not exactly. The little pest turned my balcony into an apocalyptic landscape before inviting himself right in.”

“I’m really sorry, he can be… a little wild sometimes.” That’s not the only thing that could go wild— No dick down Jean, control yourself. While it was true he hadn’t gotten the chance of a good fuck in over a month, this was obviously not the time to dull on that fact.

“I can pay you back.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

Besides he’d always have the trustworthy option B.

“I’m just glad you can finally take Marco home.”

“What?”

“The bird. That’s his name, right?” The mild confusion showing on the guy’s face quickly clued Jean in on how that was not, in fact, the cockatoo’s name.

“Not really, his name’s Polka… I’m Marco.”

“Oh,” well, that was one way to feel more of an idiot. It kind of made more sense actually, that the distressed animal would call for his owner because it couldn’t find it anywhere in sight. On the other hand, Polka, really? He wasn’t one to judge... but ‘The white menace’ was better.

“Actually that explains a lot, he’s been calling for you all day dude,” why did he feel the need to add dude there? Jean prayed someone would run him over with a bulldozer then, at least it got a small smile out of Marco.

“Ah I see. Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

The moment Marco stepped through the threshold, Polka went crazy. His crest raised up and down, same with his head. Shaking his body from side to side, he fluffed up his feathers and stretched his wings to look wide and inviting, ready to receive a much needed hug.

“Polka!” Marco rushed to his pet and scooped him up against his chest. He started rocking the bird like a baby while simultaneously nuzzling his little head. Polka greeted him just as excitedly.

“Marco! I gotcha. I gotcha.”

“Yes, yes you got me. You almost gave me a heart attack. Bad boy, very bad boy what do you have to say in your defense?”

“I love you,” a laugh came out of Marco’s mouth. It sounded so smooth and contagious, Jean found himself laughing along with him. The two were so sickly sweet and charming in that moment. Forget everything else, this guy alone was going to be the end of Jean.

“I love you too. Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again okay?” With a kiss to Polka’s head, Marco seemed to suddenly remember he wasn’t alone. He scratched the back of his head and gave a small smile in the blonde’s direction, obviously embarrassed of his early display. The cockatoo on his part chose to play with Marco’s index finger, nibbling at it playfully.

“Thank you again. I don’t know what I’ll do if he got hurt.” Jean wave his hand dismissively.

“It’s was nothing. Good thing I came home early today,” the brunette responded with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I guess we better go before a certain someone causes more trouble. Oh before I forget how is—” Marco moved his head to look towards the balcony but his big smile vanished when he saw the state it was in. “Polka did that?”

“Yeah but like I said it’s no big deal, I can fix it myself.” Jean wasn’t one to hold grunges anyway, much less against animals. He’d find a way to get this past his mom, somehow.

“But your garden, is all gone. It was so beautiful.” His voice sounded almost mournful.

“Yea—wait,” the sentence made Jean pause. Okay red flag, he’d never mentioned his little Oasis to Marco before. There were some broken pots sure, but there was no way some random person could figure it out just by looking at them. “How do you know that?”

The blonde grew wary as Marco’s cheeks flared red. The latter stumbled over his own words as he tried to explain.

“I, well, I live on the building from across the street, the red one? Same floor as you a-and I can see your garden from outside my window sometimes and, yeah.”

“O...kay?” So this guy had seen him water his plants for a while now without him noticing, nothing weird about that, not at all.

Still, something about the brunette made Jean want to believe this to be no more than coincidental, maybe it was the redden or slight stutter. Hell, he didn’t look like he could be a potential serial killer, then again never judge a book by its cover.

Marco got to the balcony, signaling for Jean to follow. He pointed to one of the windows of the building opposite to this. “That’s my apartment right there. That window has the best source of light so it’s where I usually study and I see you walking from time to time.” Jean could kind of see a desk with a pile of books through the glass huh, he never noticed. Funny how he never took the time to look around out here but it was not surprising for him. He always got tunnel vision when it came to his babies.

He’d never admit the last part to anyone though.

“I think is nice you know? How you take care of you plants so thoroughly.”

“Runs in the family, I guess.”

“I still feel bad about this since it was partly my fault. I know! I’m going to buy you some new flower pots and maybe some new plants too, as compensation.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Oh it’s no problem really. Besides one of my friend works at a flower shop, I can make a few calls.” Marco winked at Jean after that sentence. Winked. At him. Damn what was with his mind today, he was supposed to be better than this.

What are you, sixteen again? Get your mind out of the gutter Jean, he snapped inside his head before replying.

“Do what you want.”

“Great! I really do need to go though, Polka must be tired and I... haven’t eaten anything since he disappeared.” He scratched the back of his neck, almost like he was ashamed by that fact.

“Please, do not starve yourself to death in my home.”

A soft chuckle left Marco’s lips, “I won’t.” 

Both men head to the front door, the white cockatoo now fast asleep on his owner’s arms.

“Goodbye, Jean.”

“Later, freckles.” As the door clicked into place, Jean slumped his back against it and sighed.  Exhaustion was finally catching up to him and after all that happened in the last 24 hours, he deserved the rights to hit the bed early. Though, if he was being honest…

Deep, very deep inside he wouldn’t mind going through the same shit, if it meant seeing this Marco character again.

Jesus he _really_ needed to go out more.


	2. Of Coffee and Numbers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean found himself wondering if he’d get to see Marco again. 
> 
> He really should’ve predicted what happened next, considering his luck.

True to his words, Marco did send Jean a box of new flower pots of different sizes with a note attached that read “Hope you like them _._ ” Jean honest to God thought he’d been joking, but nope, he went and did the thing. Least to say, he had to wash his face with cold water to get rid of his embarrassment after that.

The days went by and Jean tried to forget about the whole incident, it was giving him extra stress he sure didn’t need right now. He’d get to that garden eventually or his mom would skin him alive, whichever happened first.

His plan had almost worked, that’s it until Wednesday when he was rudely awaken by a call from one of his co-workers.

With a groan, he grabbed his phone with clumsy fingers and glared at the screen. The name “Shit-face McJaeger” greeted him on top of the accept or reject buttons, as if mocking him. After debating whether he should take it or go back to sleep, he pressed green. After all, is was a scientifically proven fact Eren wouldn’t call him out of him own volition unless it was important.

“The fuck you want Jaeger?” He said, not bothering to hide the edge in his tone.

“Glad to know you’re still kicking, horse face.” Oh how _wonderful_ of Eren to grace Jean’s ears with his voice at seven in the morning, dick.

“Again, I ask, what is so fucking important you feel this need to call _me_ specifically?” Because honestly, he _really_ could do with another ten minutes of sleep rather than deal with Eren trash talking him for shits and giggles.

“ _You_ told me to call you, remember?”

“Like hell I did!” He was so tempted to end the call. He’d sooner eat glass than— Ah shit.

As his brain slowly came back to the land of the living, Jean barely remembered texting Eren the night before, asking him to make sure he didn’t sleep in because he’d been working on a project until almost 2AM.

“Oh.” Yes Jean, that such a smart thing to say.

 “Give this man an Oscar people. Go get ready, we have work in an hour and I’m not covering your ass if you don’t show your face, asshole.” On hindsight, he should’ve texted someone else— just add this to his eternal list of regrets— but Eren had been the only one awake besides him at the time and beggars can’t be choosers. Better to have a safety net than to be late he guessed, even if said safety net was made of barbed wire.

“Fuck you Jaeger.”

“Nah, you’d be more of a bottom.”

“Suck a di—.” He ended the call before Jean could finish, the coward. He tossed his phone on the bed in anger just as the alarm he’d set went off, because of course it did.

After having his must needed dose of caffeine and a toast for good measure, he took one last look in the mirror before deeming himself alive enough to go out. Phone and wallet in one pocket, keys in the other, he walked to the nearest bus stop and hopped on the first bus.

The ride to his place of work usually took around twenty-five minutes so, in theory, he shouldn’t need a forty-five-minutes head start when he could use the extra time to sleep a little more or do something productive, like stare at his wall.

Why was Jean doing it anyway? Two words, his manager.

He wanted the staff to always be a few minutes early to make sure everything was ready and flawless. And when he said flawless he literally meant not a single particle of dust on the surface, he _checked_.

From his experience working with that man, you only had two options: either shut up and accept your fate or get your ass handed to you by a man half your height.

As funny as the second one sounded, it was actually fucking terrifying, no joke.

He got onto the street and was greeted with the small but cozy local. A sign with the words **WINGS CAFÉ** was painted in one of the windows. Two wings – one white, the other blue – rested on top of one another right in the middle. It was no lie when he said he liked the place. The mix of white and brown made it pleasing to the eye and the green tables outside were a nice touch, made it look warm and welcoming.

He stepped inside and wasn’t surprised to see Bertholdt I’ll–sweat–you–a–river Hoover already there cleaning up the tables. Tall as a giraffe, the guy was always one of the first to show up and barely talked more than a few words, unless he was drunk. But what really stood out for him was his tendency to sweat like crazy.

It was unreal.

“Hey Bert,” Jean waved at him as he made his way to the counter.

He gave Jean a quick nod, when he looked at him though, his face changed into a small frown. “Trouble sleeping again?”

“Five hours, I’ll say is getting better.”

“You should try some tea before bed, it helps me relax.”

“Hmm…” That didn’t sound like a bad idea, he'll try it next time.

When Jean reached the staff room to change into his uniform he saw Eren already dressed, sitting in a chair with his phone out, seemingly oblivious to the world. While Jean would’ve used this moment to brag about what a lazy ass he was, the worried look on Eren’s face stopped him from doing so.

Right away he noticed something was missing, or rather someone.

“Where’s Armin?” The tiny blond would usually arrive around the same time that Bert. He was the go-to when you needed to talk, or were looking for some sort of advice— and heaven knows he needed lots of those—he was basically like the mom of the group.

Jean couldn’t remember the last time he’d been late and had a hunch Eren’s worry and his disappearance were connected.

“Problem with the car, faulty battery or some shit like that.” Ah, so nothing too serious, still…

“Damn, that sucks,” He took out his uniform: white T-shirt, brown pants and a dark green apron.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Jean simply flipped him the bird and went back to putting the clothes on.

He’d known the short-tempered prick since high school and while some would say they treated each other like shit now, back then it had been much, much worse. He’d lost count of the times both of them had ended up in the nurse office with busted lips and black eyes.

“Hope he gets here on time or Levi is going to give him shit.”

“Already on the bus, so he might make it.”

Jean wasn’t sure what exactly had caused them to switch from fists to mostly empty threats but it had been a mutual agreement between them. In Jean case, he'd realized just how pointless it all was.

Friends always said they were more similiar than they liked to admit but Jean called bullshit, the two of them had nothing in common.

“Do I pay you two shitheads to talk shit to each other? No? Then shut you traps and start working before I shove a boot down your throats.” 

“Yes, sir.” Well, except for the fear of their boss and believe him when he said Levi Ackerman _was_ a man to be feared. He could put you out of commission with a single hit and he was a literal midget with OCD and a build-in bullshit detector. No one knew much of his past and wouldn't dare ask about it, but he owned a shotgun and a set of knives.

Let's just leave it at that.

Once all tables were cleaned, Bert flipped the sign to **“OPEN”** and they got to work.

Ten minutes pass the opening time Armin swung the door with a smack, startling almost everyone in the Café. Embarrassed and short of breath, he tried to sneak into the back. It was just his luck that Levi was waiting for him there.

“Finally decided to show your face, Arlert?”

“Sir, I’m so sorry. Let me explain—.”

“Save it. Unlike others here you took the time to let me _know_ you’d be checking in late. I’ll let it slide _this time_ , you go make sure it never happens again.”

“Yes I—thank you.”

Scary boss for sure, but he had a heart buried somewhere beneath piles of deep-seeded anger.

“Got to use those legs brainiac?” He said once Armin joined him.

“Ha, ha. I've never heard that one.”

Both got to work by the cash registers while Bert and Eren took care of the rest. He didn’t particularly hate it but being drilled with a constant loop of asking what a costumer wanted, take the order and money, tell his co-workers and give the drink could get a little wearing at some point.

Worst of all was when people couldn’t decide between two drink that cost basically the same or would change his choice every two seconds. The last ones in particular, he wanted to set on fire. All Jean could do was hum while giving them such a fake smile, he was amazed no one had called him out on it.

 _Smile_.

His mind drifted back to Marco.

There was no way someone was this nice to what were basically strangers. Most people would’ve given him some money and that’s it, maybe offer help without really meaning it but not him.

 Jean found himself wondering if he’d get to see Marco again. He was just... so nice.

Never mind the fact that he was attractive, Jean wanted to get to know him, maybe become friends with him—maybe something more if he got the chance— he _really_ should’ve predicted what happened next, considering his luck.

 He was taking a cup to the counter when the chiming of the bell grabbed his attention. He watched how a group of three made his way inside. A red-haired girl and bald energetic boy seemed to be having a contest of who could talk the loudest as both dragged the third friend by his arms. That’s when Jean saw the freckles. His brain took a second to connect it was Marco, meaning they were dragging Marco to the tables.

 

Meaning Marco was here.

 

Oh.

 

“ _Fuck_.”

“Excuse me?” The woman in front of him asked, offended. Right don’t curse in front of costumers, he reminded himself. “Sorry ma’am. Drink was hotter than expected,” the old lady continued to watch him with disgusted. Jean took this time to also remind himself that cursing _at_ costumers was frown upon and could cost him his job.

With a scoff she snatched her drink from Jean’s hands, then stomped her way out of the café. But Jean couldn’t give less of a shit, his attention was fixated on the freckled boy.

The trio had found a table next to the window and were chatting animatedly with each other. It appeared Marco hadn’t recognized him just yet and Jean thanked his lucky stars for that because he was not ready for a tête-à-tête1 with him. Not after the last time.

It didn’t require a genius to figure out he was actually shit when it came to socializing. If it involved insults and witty comeback then sure, he was good to go but anything beyond that…

 He took a quick look around, trying to located whoever would be close enough to switch place with which, of course, turned out to be Eren, because God hated him.

“Jaeger take care of the registers. I’ll make the drinks.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, dipshit.” Jean’s eyes unintentionally flickered over to where Marco and company were. On instinct, Eren followed his line of vision and a wicked grin made its way into his stupid face.

 “Ooohh I see.”

“Eren, I swear to God—”.

“He’s _way_ out of your league, man.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you, Mister I-have-a-crush-on-my-boss.” In the past, Eren would’ve not hesitated to deck him for that and admittedly, Jean would’ve hit back. Present Eren’s reaction was limited to a heated glare and a ‘tsk’ of tongue.

“Oh fuck off, I _was_ considering switching but you know what? No, you’re on your own buddy.”

“Move your ass here or I’ll make you.” Eren leaned to the right a little, before posing his eyes on Jean again, this time with a hint of glee.

“Too late, Prince charming’s making his way over here as we speak.”

Shit, shit, shit, _shit_! Jean wanted to believe Eren was just fucking with him but no, Marco was indeed heading to where he was. He didn’t know what to do when Eren all but shoved him into the counter with a “go get him, tiger” and disappear into the back. His only consolation was that Marco seemed just as surprised as him.

“Jean?”

“M-Marco hey.” Eren, you’re a _dead man._

“You work here?”

“Yeah and you’re here,” Here we go again. Bless this freckled saint for not laughing at his incompetency.

“Kind of against my own will but yes. They don't look like it but Sasha and Connie can be very persuasive when they want to be, said I need a change of space.” A distraction, he needed a distraction.

“Right well, what are you three taking?”

“Ah let’s see, a large vanilla bean latte, a medium white chocolate mocha and since I’m new here, what would you recommend?” Recommendation sure, he could do that.

“The caramel macchiato here is godly.”

“I’ll take one then, please.” Marco smiled warmly and handed him the money when he told him the price. He got out of line to wait for the drinks and Jean decided right there he wouldn’t be disappointed.

Berthold was about to take the order but Jean forcefully yanked him back with a firm “You. Line. _Now_.” Bert looked about to faint on the spot and he swore to himself he’d apologize later.

Right now he was on a mission to make Marco the best Caramel macchiato he’d ever have in his life.

* * *

 

“So Jean, mind telling me what was all that about?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Armin.” It’d been half an hour since Jean had made a complete fool out of himself and he was currently on his break.

“I’m pretty sure you gave Bertholdt a mini heart-attack.”

“I’ll buy him a muffin.”

“The banana flavored is my favorite.” Scratch that, he'd buy him two muffins....and a towel.

Marco and his friends had already finished up a while ago and the three looked ready to leave.

From what he could tell, freckles had enjoyed his drink, if the empty cup at his side was any indication. So that was one thing he hadn’t screwed up. Good job, go put it on your resume, Jean Kirschtein: Walking human disaster, but he makes a great latte.

“You seem…distracted.”

“I’m on my break, I’m allowed to be.” He gave a subtle glare to where Eren was, his sixth sense telling him he was about to do something stupid.

Eren paused what he was doing and looked at Armin for a second, then turned to look at him with the most condescending smile he’d ever seen in his life.

“Wanna know what has Jean so smitten?” He asked, enjoying every second of it.

“Don’t you dare—.”

 _“He’s in love with tall, freckled and handsome over there~”_ he sang while doing a poor imitation of cupid firing an arrow.

“I swear they won’t find the body.”

Armin, sweet little angel that he was, took matters into his hands and hit him over the head with a magazine, twice. Jean almost _wished_ he was recording it just so he could put it on loop later.

“Eren, do not make fun of him.” Thanks Armin, “Is it true?” Jean took it back, screw you Armin. He really felt inclined to ask why the fuck was everyone suddenly so interest in his life but refrained at the last second. Hiding his face in his hands instead, he muttered.

“I don’t fucking know, ‘min.” Jean was not what you’d call the best when it came to love and romance, shocking right? Not like he hadn’t try, God knows he had, but most often than not, things ended with _his_ heart getting smashed into pieces.

He didn’t want to rush things just to have another disappointment again.

“Can you guys just leave?” He heard sounds of struggle so he put down his hands just in time to see Armin dragging an annoyed Eren by the back of his shirt and Bertholdt shyly following behind them. Now that he was alone he could think in peace.

Not that there was much to think about, Marco was probably gone by now.

He relaxed back into his seat and dared glance at Marco’s table, so sure he wouldn’t find a soul, but he was pleasantly surprised.

The girl and baldie were nowhere in sight, probably left during the whole ‘interrogation’ episode, but freckles was still there. Looking absently at his phone while his other hand played with the cup.

Jean brain immediately start running a marathon, plaguing him with questions. Why was he here? Why not go with his friends? Was he waiting for someone else? One miniscule part of him had the gall to hope that someone was him.

So lost in thought Jean was, he slightly jumped when two brand new cups of coffee materialize in his line of vision. He followed the arms holding the items and saw Bertholdt grinning nervously at him, a visible drop of sweat on his forehead.

Okay, what?

“What’s this?”

“This is your chance.”

“…. huh?!”

“To go talk to him.” He clarified and gave an urging nod toward Marco.

 “Don’t worry about Levi, we’ll cover you.” Armin said behind him and Holy shit, where were they all coming from? Had he blacked out at some point?

“When did you even—.”

“Come on, it ‘been a while since I had a good laugh.” Eren transferred both drinks to Jean’s hands and gave him a hard pat on his back, almost caused him to spill their content. Jean was lost of words because since when did these three have a hive mind and coordinate like this?

Nevertheless, he wasn’t one to waste an opportunity.

He gathered what little courage he had and marched toward Marco’s table. The freckled boy was looking at the window now, so he didn’t see his approach.

Instead of clearing his throat or saying some sort of greeting like a normal person would, Jean set one of the cups in front of him which, naturally, make Marco drop his phone because of the scare.

 Oh we’re doing fantastic already, he thought to himself.

Marco reached for the missed item, his frightened expression switching into a confused one as he turned to look at Jean.

“It’s on the house.” So far, so good.

He looked at the remaining cup on Jean’s hand, then back at him. Ah yes…that.

“See, I’m on my break and I thought I could, maybe sit here?” He couldn’t pin-point why he was feeling so nervous but he attributed it to the damn look Marco was giving him or most likely, how he still hadn’t uttered a single word. “Or-or not, I can go elsewhere it’s…it’s whatever.”

“No, no. It’s okay! Sorry, you just caught me off guard it’s all.”

“Oh well, good.” He heard a snort coming from behind him and he had a sneaking suspicion he knew who it belonged to. Marco glanced over his shoulder and grinned, _busted_.

“I’m guessing they have something to do with this?”

“Yeah.”

“They seem nice.”

“They’re the worst believe me,” Jean said as he took a seat opposite to Marco. He eyed the empty cup.

“Did you like it? The drink, I mean.”

“Oh yes! Definitely would order again.” Marco joyful expression turned apologetic, he scratched his nose lightly and took a sip of his new drink.

“I didn’t get to introduce myself properly the first time, let me start again. Hi my name is Marco Bodt, nice to meet you.” He even stuck out his hand in greeting while giving Jean an encouraging smile, might as well play along.

“Hello, I’m Jean Gerhard Kirschtein.” Jean let go of the hand and gulped some of his own coffee.

“That’s quite a mouthful…. is it German? French?”

“First one but my mother knows a lot of French, is in love with the language actually, hence my first name.” Which most people mispronounce as _‘gene’_ but whatever. Anything was better that Gerhard, he hated his dad for that one.

“Parlez-vous français?” Holy shit, no he didn’t but from all the times he’d heard his mom, he could tell his accent sounded almost perfect.

“Ah no, nothing like that. I mean… I know a few words but everything else is beyond me.”

“Might as well save yourself the hassle, take it from someone who’s learning 4 other languages.”

“What are you a fucking masochist or something?” All good with learning other cultures and all that crap but Jesus, four? Jean could barely keep up with just one.

“So it’d seem but what can I say? I’ve always been a fan of learning new things,” He started rubbing his nose again, nervous tic perhaps? “Don’t take this the wrong way but I was wondering, how old are you?”

“Getting a little bold I see, 21.” Another sip.

“Really? You look younger.”

“You have no idea how many times people have told me that.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“Normally no, but what’s the point of being legal if they’ll just keep treating you like a kid? I’m old enough, let me drink my fucking booze in peace.”

“You got a point there.”

“Mhmm, and you? Look around 25 it you ask me.”

“Close but no cigar, I’m 23.”

A comfortable silence descended upon the two as they drank their coffee. Jean managed to finish his before going back to the conversation.

“So…you know where I work now but what about you, got any job? Studies?”

“I play piano in a bar. I’m sure you’d hear about ‘Titan’,” the name sounded vaguely familiar, maybe he’d gone there sometime though, given his tendency to get piss-ass-drunk, it wouldn’t come as shocking if his memory of the place was a mess. “It gets me by and the tips are great! Not to mention, the place is always full of intriguing people so I can’t complain. And for studies, I’m trying to become an historian.”

“Huh, I though you’ll be more of a Music instructor with how you were going, but historians are cool too. My goal’s to become an architect before I hit twenty-seven.”

“Well you’re not entirely wrong. Music is one of the things I really love ever since I was a kid and I could probably teach if I really wanted to. It helps that I have a grand piano I can use whenever I want.”

“Ok. Now you’ve picked my curiosity, I need to hear you play that thing.”

“Maybe one day. I can even give you lessons if you won’t mind having little space to move around, my flat is jam-packed enough as it is.”

“Count me in on that deal.” It would be nice see the kind of place a guy like Marco owned, if he had any pets besides that bird. He looked like someone who was good with animals.

“By the way, how’s The white menace doing?”

“...menace what?” And there was the fuck up.

“Shit uh…” what was that thing’s name again? “That wasn’t—fuck! Polka! I meant Polka.” Marco could contain himself anymore. He threw his head back and started laughing loudly. Waiving both hands when Jean tried to apologize.

“It fine! You’re right, he _is_ a little menace sometimes but he’s doing great. He gets in trouble when I leave him alone for too long, but he hasn’t destroyed anything recently. Speaking of, did you get the box?”

“Yes um, thanks. They were really helpful.”

“Got them from Sasha, remember I told you one of my friends works in a flower shop? Well, her mother is the owner.”

“Cool.” Marco eyebrows lifted, as if he had gotten an idea.

“Say do you have classes after this?”

“No, I’m free…why?”

“I could take you to see it if you want. You still need to fix your garden?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Jeans saw something moving out of the corner of his eye, Armin was pointing at his watch signaling that his break was over. He almost begged him for five more minutes but it was not up to Armin to decide.

He sighed and regarded Marco again.

“Sorry, but I need to get back to work,” with the slowest movements known to man, he stood up and waved at Marco. What he’d give to have the ability to freeze time.

“It’s okay, it was nice talking to you Jean.” He most definitely enjoyed it too, was better that what he’d imagined in his head, which would’ve involved a frustrated Marco wanting nothing to do with him ever again and him drowning his sorrow in the bathroom.

“See you later, I guess.”

“Jean, wait.” Marco grabbed a napkin and took out a pen from his pocket. He scribbled something on it and handed it to Jean. “Just in case you want to meet up to go to the flower shop.”

With that, he got up and tossed a last “Goodbye!” before closing the door.

Dumbfounded, Jean looked down at the paper gripped tightly in his fingers, his hands trembled when he read it.

The name _Marco_ was written in clean cursive followed by a bunch of numbers lined up together, a phone number……Marco had given him his fucking phone number.

 “ _HELL YEAH!”_

He screamed at the top of his lungs and by that point he was 99% certain everybody in the Café hated his guts but he did not care, not one bit. What's more, he’d have continued to scream just to spite them had not been for Levi coming his way, looking like he was about to commit murder. He had a strong guess on who the victim would be.

He was _probably_ going to regret everything in life in a few seconds but at that moment, Jean was pretty sure nothing could’ve gotten rid of the idiotic smile on his face.

Not even a deadly Ackerman hell-bent on killing him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Meaning face to face, have a private conversation with someone.  
> \-----------------------  
>  _This is how normal people talk with each other right?_
> 
> If I've learned something from this experience is that I suck at making dialogue. Might edit it later.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	3. Of Unconventional Dates and Symbols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay then, let’s start with something basic.” Jean searched with his eyes until he found a bouquet of roses that were, you guessed it, red. He pointed in that direction and Marco was soon to say.  
>   
> “Love, they mean love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this one was suppose to come out on Valentine's day but got held up by some things. Whatever, we're still on February so it totally counts....right?  
>   
> I also got a little trouble trying to write this one, mostly because I was constantly thinking it was awfull but, I'll let you guys decide on that one.  
> Update: edit it a little.

_Hey. This is Jean… (3:04PM)_

_Jean! :) (3:09PM)_

_Hi, did you finish your shift? (3:10PM)_

_Yeah few minutes back so…. (3:11PM)_

_Yes? (3:14PM)_

_about those flowers you mentioned… (3:17PM)_

 

A couple of texts later Jean found himself on Recon corps street just outside of the flower shop, waiting for Marco. Forehead still reddish and stinging from French Ramsay’s punishment. Who fucking _knew_ such little cooking book could be used as a deathly weapon? Then again, Jean had seen Levi toss a six-feet-something man over a table and out the door once so in hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised.  Certainty _wouldn’t_ be surprised if he’d gotten a concussion out of it, given the mild headache he was feeling right now, though maybe it could boil down to his own nerves. Over fuckin what though? There was nothing to be nervous about.

Whatever the cause, he was never getting on shimpy’s bad side ever again…. yeah right. With his luck tomorrow he’d wear another mark to match this one and without even meaning to, considering how short Levi’s fuse was. He could use Eren as a shield if that happened though.

Now that’s an idea…but let’s not get side-tracked.

The shop itself was nothing too big or even popular—weren’t many costumers inside from where Jean could see— but it sure as hell was flashy. Jean swore he’d never seen so much red in his life, it was everywhere. Red walls, red signs, big red striking letters that said **BLOUSE’S FLOWER PATCH** with just a little tint of white to compensate for the certain eye-bleed you’ll get. Though if you were to ask him, it wasn’t doing a very good job at all. He was going to need to get a prescription if he kept looking at it any longer.

Surprisingly the weather was nice, slightly cold but sunny. The supposed storm that was going to hit this afternoon apparently had decided to give him a little break and fuck off somewhere else— forever thanking the deities above for that— it was a good start.

 

A loud bussing made Jean fish out his phone. New text from Armin read on the screen. He had told him about the meeting so he didn’t think anything weird of it and opened the message. Jean thought that maybe the blonde just wanted to give him a few last encouraging words.

 

_Good luck on your little daaate horseface ;) (4:05PM)_

Oh he should’ve fucking remembered Armin usually studied with Eren.

 

_Fuck off. (4:05PM)_

 

_Send me the juicy details later(4:06PM)_

_You're a fucking pervert, you know?(4:07PM)_

 

_Aww come on, just trying to be frienfdñulty (4:07PM)_

_Sorry Jean he stole my phone(4:08PM)_

Yeah, yeah what-the-fuck-ever. Besides it was not a fucking date, just a nice guy doing him a favor—he refused to get his hopes up so soon— nothing more about it.

After a little waiting Jean grew bored of staying idle and started tapping his foot in rhythmic beats. He looked at the clock on his phone. It’d been five minutes and still no sigh of the freckled boy but whatever, he’d come a little early and didn’t have anything important to do, so waiting a little more wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe he should send him a text, ask if he’s late in the next five minutes?

“Jean!” Nope, never mind false alarm boys.

There Marco was, waving at him while jogging down the sidewalk to catch up. As he got closer, Jean saw that he’d changed clothes since the last time he saw him. He’d dressed up nicely with a plain button up shirt and slim fit jeans—for God’s sake was Marco trying to give him a heart attack? — and his hair was different somehow. No that was not the word, Jean focused a little more on the locks when he finally reached him. Marco’s hair was damp, a clear signal he’d taking a shower before coming here. Jean’s brain needed a second to process the fact he’d taken all this dedication just for him.

Him, out of all people, fucking amazing.

Actually not amazing at all because he’d just put on the same shit he’d first come to work with—old pair of pants, long sleeved black shirt nothing to flashy— It was certainly _not_ helping him forget that text Eren had sent him.

Still, not a date. They just were going to buy some flowers and shit, a totally a manly thing to do, oh so manly, very testosterone filling.

 

.... just hand him the rainbow pin already.

 

“Hey,” Marco said with that disarming smile. It should be illegal to have teeth that white, it’ll ended up causing an accident someday mark his words.

“Hey yourself.” Still excellent at basic conversation I see, perfect use of the English language. Marco eyebrow furrowed at something above his eyes and it took Jean a second to realize why.

“What happen to your forehead—?”

“Nothing!” The word came out a little too strongly, so he tried again “it was nothing just usual me being incompetent and shit, don’t mind it.” So foolish of him to think his hair would’ve hide the bruise. Luckily, Marco simply nodded and let it go.

“Okay, were you waiting for long though?”

“Just a few minutes, no worries.” The two headed to the door, chiming of the bell ignored as Jean got lost in the view in front of him. The place was decorated with colorful origami butterflies and doves hanging from the ceiling. Display stands to his left filled with various garden décor and other ornaments. One particular statue of a fawn lying down caught his attention. Jean’s mother would love to get one of those to go with the deer back at home, maybe he could get it for her birthday. However, what sold this place for him was waiting just a few feet away.

Walls full of shelves adorned with vibrant beauty as far as the eye could see. Three tables scattered far in between: one with pesticides, shovels and other gardening tools. The second one held houseplants and large indoor trees. The last had common flowering plants, one shelf was strictly reserved for Cacti.

 Jean felt a tap at his shoulder and turned to find Marco, hand covering his mouth in a failed attempt to hide his laugh because of the stupid face he was surely making right now.

“So, I’m guessing by your expression that you like the place.” 

“Ah yeah, reminds me of home…a little.” Jean scratched his cheek lightly while internally drowning in shame. Why couldn’t he just inherent his father social skills? Would come real handy right about now but the old man could not even give him that. His only comfort was knowing his face wasn’t red yet.

“Well I don’t really know much about this, so maybe you should—.”

“Hello, how can I help…oh Marco!” A red haired girl Jean assumed was Sasha rushed pass the counter to greet them. Smiled wide as she encased Marco in a crushing hug—if his groans were any indication— nevertheless his mobility wasn’t all restricted as he managed to get some gentle pats on her back.

“Nice to see you too, Sash.” Marco wheezed and wriggled to pry the arms away from his middle. “Even though we saw each other earlier today, please let go.”

“Still, I need to fill my cuota of love for all those weeks I didn’t get to see you!” She huffed sounding annoyed but let go, grin never missing from her face, then her eyes found Jean. Well, seeing as his plan of acting as a wall wouldn’t work anymore, he went with the wholesome plan B which involved introducing himself like a normal person. Jean could do that no problem.

 “…. Hey.”

Nailed it.

However, that had the opposite reaction. She narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue out to the side of her lips, as if trying to solve a hard puzzle.

“Do I know you?” She finally said after a full minute of staring and Jean was about to ask what the hell she meant by that, but she cut him off with an excited “Oh you are that cute guy in the Café!” All Jean could think of was ‘she thinks I’m cute?’ before Sasha got back to a now blushing Marco.

“So _this_ is why you got held back eh, Marco?”

“I told you I was waiting for a friend.” Jean would have sighed in relief knowing Marco had deliberately waited for him on that table, done a little winning dance too he swears, but he was a little busy trying to comprehend what the hell was going on between these two knuckleheads.

“You didn’t tell me it was the same guy that made us drinks!” Now facing Jean again. “Hi, name’s Sasha and yours?”

“Jean.”

“Nice. So Jean…” She almost got the accent right with his name. She got close to him and grabbed his shoulders. Jean felt he wouldn’t like what was next to come, “...can you get us all free food next time we go to WING’S?” Well, that was completely unexpected.

“Sasha!” Marco yelled, looking mortified. Hand hiding his face from view as Jean tried his best to answer.

“I don’t think I can,” not unless he wanted his dead coming sooner, “...but I can probably give you a discount, maybe sneak one bagel or something.” Giving Levi never found out about it. Yeah, Jean’s not really helping his life expectancy like this. On the bright side, maybe he could reincarnate as a leopard, a snow leopard. Would mind his death so much that way.

He was sure he didn’t imagine children singing carols outside when he saw how Sasha’s face brightened up like a Christmas tree.

He didn’t expect the hug either.

“Really? Oh you are the absolute best. My decision’s made. Marco don’t let this one go, I approve.”

“SASHA!” Marco wrapped his hand around her arms and spun her around. “Clients, you need to keep up with the family business remember? We’re good here.”

“Okay, okay I get. Going, nice to meet you Jean.” She got out between laughs.

“Nice to meet you too, I guess?” And with a last giggle she disappeared behind the counter. He and Marco watched the spot the girl had previously been at, Jean with perplexity and freckles in what he knew was embarrassment.

“So…” Jean shocked his head and give a small smile, “some friend you got there. Very ah, eccentric.”

“That could be a word to describe Sasha, she’s…. usually calmer than this. Things is you got food into the mix,” Marco was rubbing at the back of his head, fingers pulling lightly at the strands of hair there. His cheeks slowly went back to a normal color.

“What? Is it some sort of taboo around her? Don’t feed the crazy lady.” Jean was growing concerned for the type of company Marco spent his free time with. He hoped Sasha was the freakiest one and not just the tip of an iceberg full of crazy.

“In a way, she just gets really excited about food in general. Don’t mention it and you’ll be probably fine.” They both got to the table closest to them which turned out to be the flower one. “Well, you are more versed with these things, just try to find what resembles your balcony.”

Jean studied the plants as he moved from one of the table to the other. Each flower healthy and noticeably well cared for. Dirt recently moved and watered, leaves trimmed. Marco stayed close, merely watching Jean’s struggle.

He was never one who could stand the silence for too long and thankfully he didn’t need to.

“There are so many of them you can’t chose huh?” Freckles teased and walked over to where he was.

“It’s not as easy as it seems you know?”

“I’ll bet.” Jean heard him pick up random plant but didn’t take his eyes of the table. “I’d always wanted to learn about them too, what is the meaning behind each one but never got the time to.” Jean turned to look at him. Marco was caressing the petals of a yellow tulip and Jean could not imagine anything more fitting.

“My mom gave me a book when I was little about that and later I kept finding out by myself. I could teach you what I know, if you want.”

“Sure!”

“Okay then, let’s start with something basic.” Jean searched with his eyes until he found a bouquet of roses that were, you guessed it, red. He pointed in that direction and Marco was soon to say.

“Love, they mean love.”

“Yeah and it’s what most people would think but did you know that their symbolism change based on the color and even the number of flowers?” Jean makes a quick mental count of the roses there. “See, those twelve red roses are a declaration of love.”

 He then pointed to another next to it, “but you usually give twenty-five roses to congratulate someone and...” He grabbed one that only had six, “when you give this, you’re saying that you’re slowly falling in love with that person.”

“And a single rose?” The flecked man asked while handle him one from the stand.

“Can mean a lot of things, depends of the color.” He twirled the flower carefully between his fingers. “A red rose usually says ‘I love you’. Yellow roses convey friendship and happiness; mostly platonic feeling see? While pink is associated with admiration or gratitude. A purple one means ‘I’m fascinated by you’ or ‘I adore you’.”

Jean went back to the table and took the white lilies, showing them to Marco.

“Now this color is a little mixed. Most white flowers represent innocence, pure and honest feelings…but they also symbolize death.” He did not want to remember how he’d found out about that particular fact, so he quickly goes to another one. “Gardenias were handled to indicate you loved someone but couldn’t say, a secret love.”

This prompt Marco to whistle, impressed by his floral knowledge.

 

“All this from a book, that’s some good memory you got there,” He complemented with a smile while Jean averted his eyes down yet again.

"Mom read that shit to me enough times, some of it was bonded to stuck."

“Ah then what about this one?” Marco asked, holding the plant he’d played with before.

“Tulips… they represent true love. The yellow one are for cheerful thoughts and sunshine.” But also for hopeless love, Jean kept to himself. Going instead for a safe “I think they go well with you.”

“You think huh? I’m not always so cheerful, you know? I can get angry.”

“Oh no please, not an angry freckled _angel_. What will we ever _do.”_ Jean put the back of his hand against his forehead for dramatic value. Marco flicked said forehead right on the bruise as retaliation. “Fuck hey! Don’t attack the injured!”

“Don’t provoke me or you’ll suffer my wrath."

"Some wrath that was, acting like an angry five years-old." Jean said, rubbing the hurt spot.

"Well kids are known to fight dirty, you better watch out.” A single red flower filled his line of vision when he drops the hands from his face and he replied automatically.

“Carnation for pride, admiration and affection…” He gazed at it fondly, the first plant his mom had sent him had been a pink carnation1.

"I'm getting all the positive feelings." Marco laughed and took a few steps closer, standing in front of him.

“Lucky you. " Jean replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Jealous?" Learned in with a grin.

"As if. I told you, it really depends—.”

“Hey should I keep doing my job or you want to take my place instead?” Whatever Jean wanted to add got cut short by Sasha who was leaning against a lady statue behind them. When the hell had they made their way back to the décor section? And where did she come from? Jean couldn’t tell. Didn’t stop him from cursing at her —mentally, mind you— for the scare.

“Sasha how long have you been there?!” That was freckles, good to know he was just as frightened by her friend materializing out of freaking nowhere.

“Around five minutes. Heard you talking about my lovelies and stayed.”

“They’re technically your mom’s.”

“Still, my family so I own them kinda! You did good by the way.” She said to Jean and got back to rearranging the little sculptures. “You know your stuff.”

“Thanks.”

“You sure don’t wanna work here? We could use some help.”

“Sash...” Marco warned her with a glare as a bonus.

“You’ll get to see Marco a lo—hmph!” Jean felt something drop onto his arms and seconds later a hand on her lips stopped Sasha from finishing that sentence. Soon Marco had her trapped against him, trying to keep her still and why did this look so much like the two were reenacting a kidnaping? Not for too long though. She licked Marco’s hand causing him to take off it in disgust and squirmed out of his grip.

“Nah, one job is already enough for me.” Jean said between chuckles, man and he whines about Jaeger. Somehow, Marco got it worst.

“So have you decided on what you want to take?” Sasha asked him as Marco marched to the stand to find some paper tissues. Jean watched him go, still holding onto the carnation.

“Yeah, I guess I have.”

 

* * *

 

 

In the end they got some replacements for the plants destroyed and a little bonsai tree because fuck you he needed that bonsai tree, that’s why. Jean absolutely refused to let Marco pay for all of them, so they both ended up paying by halves.

Jean got to the door after a quick goodbye but Marco lingered close to Sasha, chatting with her. She proceeded to whisper something into his ear when the two were out of hearing range, causing Marco to falter slightly.

Sasha snorted and gave Jean a thumbs up. He wouldn’t really admit it out-loud but he’d learn to like that crazy food lady in the short time he’d known her.

As fate would have it both had to take the bus to go back home so, once outside with bags in hands, the two started walking to the bus stop. So Jean took this opportunity to show some gratitude.

“Hey man thanks for all of this, honestly.”

“It was my pleasure.” He waved half-heartily and that’s when Jean saw something was a little off about him all of the sudden. He didn’t look nervous but more like unsure somehow.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Hmm? Yes. Yeah, all good.” So convincing, now he could say without a flicker of doubt something was wrong but Marco remained silent and Jean didn’t dare ask again.

They reached the bus stop, not a single vehicle yet but they got time. Marco was fidgeting with his shirt, rubbing at his nose every now and then.

“Dude seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Are you allergic to pollen or some shit like that?”

“Not at all.”

“Then what?” But Marco didn’t seem to want to talk. Fine then, whatever be like that Jean though and spun around, his back now to him. They stood like that for a few minutes.

“Jean.” He felt someone grab both his arms.

“Wha—.” A pair lips pressed into his own and he almost dropped the bags. Warm, lightly chapped they moved against his still ones in a slow but soft dance. Time stopped for Jean as static zapped throughout his body. He couldn’t hear any more than the sound of his own heartbeat and warm fingers treading through his hair, bringing him a little closer. Jean let him, too shocked to do anything more than have an internal freak out, fuck!

Far too soon for him, Marco pulled away.

"I'm sorry." He said, putting more space between them and that was the least thing Jean wanted right now. 

“…was-was this a date?” That wasn’t what he wanted to say, not what he wanted to say at all, dammit.

“Not explicitely but I was hoping it'd be seen as one with all the hints, even though this last part wasn't planned but...things sort of happened.” Or more like Sasha happened, the reason for Marco weird behavior. He was going to kill and kiss that girl, not necessary in that order. The smile Jean had in his face vanished, as he fully processed what Marco told him. Hints? what sort of hints was he talking abou-oh fucking hell.

"The flowers, you knew what the meant at along, didn't you?"

“Guilty. I still have a long way to go, that bit was true, but I did read about the ones I gave you... I told you I liked to learn new things, didn't I?” Well, fucking kick him because Eren had been right about something. The unirverse was coming to an end and why wasn't he saying anything?

“Jean?”

“I…”

For whatever fucking reason he couldn’t get his thoughts to arrange properly. He was fucking mute and Marco was looking more dejected by the second.

"Guess, I was too foward huh?" A bus pulled up next to them. Marco waited a few more seconds for him so say something and sighed when nothing came out. 

 

“Well, l'll be going now...See you later maybe?” He moved toward the bus.

 

It sparked like a flame inside of Jean, that was Marco’s bus and he was leaving, he was leaving because he wasn’t saying anything.

Motherfucker no, no he was not losing this chance. His tongue recovered quicker than his legs so, on impulse, he yelled.

 

“MARCO!”

 

Said boy flinched at the intensity of his voice but turned around nevertheless, “yeah?” He asked waiting, hoping…Okay Jean, he thought, do not fuck this up.

“S-so… you know… I have all these things I need to take care of so maybe, I mean.” He took a deep breath and started again, trying to deliver some confidence into his voice. “Would you mind coming to my apartment to help me plant them?” That was awful and so shitty, he'd never been good under pressure.

But it was enough because Marco’s eyes filled with relief and Jean knew he’d made the right choice when he heard the next words.

“I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Pink carnation can symbolize a mother's undying love, the love of a mother or a woman.  
>   
> Thank you for reading! If I messed up some of the flowers meanings please be sure to let me know and I'll fix them.  
> In the next one we'll finally get to see Jean's mom.


End file.
